Hair
by scntlla
Summary: when we were younger / we thought everyone was on our side / then we grew a little / and romanticized the time I saw Flowers in your hair (multi-pairing fluff/romance work!)
1. seisa & eruna

"Good morning, Seisa-senpai!" Eruna greeted her. "The world is brighter now that you're awake~"

 _You're the bright one, Eruna,_ Seisa immediately thought as she felt lucidity come to her in gentle, gradual waves. Her eyes were still sensitive, though, and so she rubbed at them until they could be coaxed into adjusting to the early sunlight streaming through the transparent curtains by the window. Her ears picked up on the sound of songbirds, too, chirping out tunes she could never hope to know.

Eruna might know them, though. She made a mental note to ask her later.

"Ah, to be with Seisa as she's waking up this fine morning...am I still dreaming?" The sigh in Eruna's voice was too high and whimsical to be genuine. Seisa scoffed.

"If you _are_ dreaming, then I'm entitled to pinching you or otherwise," she warned in a half-serious tone. "Mmm...what time is it?"

"Oh! It's…" Eruna pulled out her phone from somewhere, and checked the time on the flickering screen. "Uh, just a little bit after nine o'clock. Is that too early? Are you still tired?"

"It's fine," Seisa insisted. "I'm already awake, so there's no use in trying to go back to sleep." She stretched and yawned some more, though, and sighed when she felt a satisfying crack ripple through her back. "Let's get ready, and then we can head downstairs. I'll have Kurumi-san make us breakfast."

" _She's so lucky to be your maid,_ " Eruna whispered in a not-so-subtle way under her breath. Seisa ignored her for her own good, and Eruna added on in a louder voice: "Sounds good to me! We can get ready together!"

Eruna was about to jump up into a headstart, but Seisa reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. The sudden motion caused her to jerk backwards, and Eruna landed awkwardly on the bed as a result. "S-Seisa-senpai?" she stuttered out, cheeks turning as pink as her hair. "What are you doing—"

"Not so fast," was all she said. The determined edge in her voice did nothing to soothe the thunderous heart beating in Eruna's ribcage. She continued nonetheless. "I brush my hair first thing in the morning."

"Oh," Eruna replied lamely. There was a hint of relief in her obvious disappointment, however. "I forgot to bring a hairbrush, though."

"That's fine, you can just use mine." Seisa reached over to the bedside table, and pulled open one of the drawers. She grabbed a white, ornate hair brush from the inside, and closed the drawer with a soft touch. Her eyes glanced from the white handle, to Eruna's cute face, and back to the handle again. "I want to brush your hair," she decided out loud. "Turn around."

"W-What? I can do that myself!" Eruna seemed embarrassed, but then quickly amended her own words with: "Wait, what am I saying? One hair brushing, coming up!" she turned so that her back was facing Seisa, instead, and from that view the _nest_ of pink hair on her head became even more visible.

Seisa smiled, and reached out for the rumpled ribbon that was keeping it altogether. A tiny tug was all it took for the hair accessory to come out of place, and with it came tangled waves of bright pink hair that cascaded down Eruna's back like a waterfall.

Without hesitating, Seisa began running the brush through the unruly strands. _What a serious case of bedhead,_ she thought to herself. _And I thought_ my hair _was bad._

"Ouch," Eruna whined softly when the bristles caught on a snag in her hair. "Please be gentle, Senpai."

"Sorry," Seisa mumbled. "Your hair's like a nest. It must be all that tossing and turning you did last night."

"I-I did that last night? That's so embarrassing— _ouch!"_ she interrupted herself with a fresh whine that was close to a howl, and Seisa retracted her hands with fast, guilty movements.

She hadn't brushed another person's hair in a while, not since...well, in any case she was being way too rough. With a renewed softness, she tried a third time to brush Eruna's hair without incident.

This time worked better, and Eruna relaxed after having such tense shoulders. And with each brush stroke, Seisa watched curiously as the tangly, pink messes became smooth, pretty strands. Really, Eruna was so lucky to have such a beautiful hair color. It reminded Seisa of blush, lipstick, or the pale roses that grew in the school's garden. It gave her the image of the sun in the early dawn, bleeding bright pinks and blues into the sky for the whole world to see.

It made her think even more about Eruna, as if she had anything else on her mind right now. And when the last of the tangles became free, Seisa felt a childish sting in her chest. _She didn't want to stop brushing her hair._ But Eruna's strands were free of tears and tangles, and became as soft as feathers against her skin.

They were like rose petals, almost, and Seisa couldn't help but wonder if they smelled the same. She dropped the hair brush beside her on the bed, and slowly brought up an errant strand of hair to her face. She breathed in the light scent—strawberries and peaches, but nothing like a rose—of Eruna, and closed her eyes against the vibrant sheen of color.

"Seisa-senpai, are you done?" Eruna asked obliviously. If she knew what Seisa was doing, she wouldn't be as calm as she was now. "I can brush your hair, too—"

"—That's alright. I'm almost finished, here." Seisa's hair was remarkably tidy this morning, quite different from Eruna's bedhead. She frowned at the realization that Eruna might not have to brush her black hair, after all. "Actually, I'm done. You can turn around, now."

Eruna did as she was asked, and she twisted around to face Seisa in full. Up close, the two of them could properly assess their morning visage. Eruna's hair was worn long and down—a rare sight, truly—while her eyes fluttered with an almost _innocuous_ gleam as she gazed at Seisa with an adoration that, really, was undeserved. Seisa didn't deserve the sunny smiles that Eruna constantly gave her, or the undying attention that was hardly befitting of her. Yet, Eruna was both smiley _and_ attentive in that moment, staring at Seisa like she was the only girl left in the world.

Maybe she was.

Or maybe Seisa was also becoming more enamored with Eruna these days. The way that Eruna smiled and laughed, heartily and fully, was infectious. The way that she carried herself with strength and confidence—but never _arrogance_ —was a usual sight. The way that she let Seisa brush her hair just now, or the way that her sleepwear hang so _lazily_ on her body—revealing bits of skin by her collarbone and neck, or somewhere even further down that Seisa would notice if she were just a _bit_ more shameless—was so satisfying and sweet all at once.

Seisa couldn't let her mind keep going at this rate. She felt flustered, suddenly, and was grateful to toss the hairbrush to Eruna like it was a hot potato, instead. Like it was something she just wanted to be rid of. When her fingers no longer felt the pearly ornament in hand, she found relief. "Your turn," she said to her. Seisa turned so the bulk of her long, black hair was facing Eruna. "Go ahead."

"Okay," Eruna said. She shifted her weight as she got closer to Seisa, and began carding the brush through the straightness of her black hair. The sensation of the bristles running across Seisa's skull—as well as the _fleeting touch_ of Eruna's fingers against her head—was comforting. Seisa closed her eyes, and leaned her head back in the most relaxed manner possible.

At some point, Eruna stopped brushing her hair. It might have been the same moment as when one of the sleeves of Seisa's nightgowns slipped off her shoulders, revealing the bare skin underneath. Or it might have been the moment when the sunlight waned so carefully into the room, setting it against an almost fluorescent atmosphere that was alive with energy. Either way, she placed the hair brush aside, and called out: "I'm done!" with a half-squeaky voice.

Seisa turned around, and stared Eruna in the eye. Theirs was a marriage between pink and red, red and pink—roses with roses as their petals come together. Normally, this should have been where Eruna ruined the mood with an oblique comment, or where Seisa soured the atmosphere with a bitter remark. But instead, the air between them was kept wondrously and happily _sweet,_ as the only thing they heard was _silence_.

Somewhere during that silent interval, however, Seisa realized something.

She really liked Eruna. She liked her a lot. But she would never be able to admit it, at least not on her own like this. Now would have been as good of a time as ever to reciprocate those affectionate feelings that Eruna had for her, but Seisa wasn't nearly as cool or closed off as everyone made her out to be. In a situation like this, she might have been as helpless or awkward as Eruna herself. The only difference was that she was _aware_ of such misgivings, which helped her in hiding the integrity of her feelings in the first place.

But, she liked entertaining the idea that one day, she would do this again with Eruna, and instead of prolonged silence she would fill the room with joyous shouts and declarations of love, those that were far too brave of things for her to say, but were still true enough that she held them to her heart and let them stay there. One day, she would fill this gap between them, and rewrite the spaces that kept them apart.

One day, she could be honest to Eruna _and_ herself. But that day just wasn't today.

Today was a day for pancakes and chocolate, not confessions or love letters. With that resolve, she broke eye contact with Eruna first, and hopped off the silken porch of her bed with strange delight. "Come on," she said to her, "let's go eat something."

"Alright!" Eruna agreed happily as she jumped to her feet. "Let's go downstairs together, Seisa-senpai!"

"Yes," she said. " _Together._ "


	2. sadamatsu & himi

Sadamatsu was in a state of total peace. Eyes closed, knees folded, back straight—he was the perfect picture of tranquility as he sat squarely on the tatami mats, surrounded by burning incense and potted plants. The Flower Arranging Club was vacant again. Although more students had been coming by recently, there still wasn't a reliable club member attendance to speak of. On a slow morning like today, it was easier for Sadamatsu to catch a break.

He didn't want to look unmotivated or tired, but he couldn't help it sometimes. Yesterday was a busy day in terms of homework, and today would be just as stressful in that regard. He wished he could be more like Kuzuryu, who simply skipped classes whenever he felt like doing so. Or he wished that he was as smart as Akama, who got through class like it was nothing.

He even wished that he was as optimistic as Himi Yasaka, whose unending energy would never fail her, even in activities as mind-numbing as homework.

As soon as his thoughts wandered off to Himi, however, he heard her voice resonate throughout the room. "Minatogawa-chan!" she called out to him. "I'm here to bother you~"

He opened his eyes. Though tired, he found Himi's image to be utterly refreshing. He felt a renewed burst of energy run through him as he sat up even straighter than before, and greeted his best friend with a smile. "Hello, Himi-chan. It's never a... _bother_...to see you."

She was all smiles, golden eyes lighting up at the sincere compliment received now. "Aw, thanks! But seriously, though, I'm so tired of dealing with Katai-chan and the others. Today's been so busy," she sighed, and threw her head back in exaggeration. Sadamatsu giggled at her expense, and she came back up with a goofy grin on her face.

"But, coming to this clubroom makes me feel better. Although you forgot to greet me just now."

"I did?"

"You didn't say _welcome home_ like you always do!" she pointed this out, acting like it was sacrilege to their daily routines. "I know I forgot to say _I'm back,_ but that doesn't mean you have to forget your lines, too!"

"Sorry, Himi-chan. Next time," he reassured her, then glanced at the objects in her hands. They weren't candies or calligraphy brushes, so naturally he became curious. "What're those?"

"I'm glad you noticed! It's a hairstyling kit, complete with pins and brushes and everything else you can think of!" her eyes sparkled at this newfound acquisition. She continued to say: "Katai-chan accidentally ordered two kits, so she gave me the extra one. I've been wanting to try my hand out at styling for a while now."

"You're...very talented at calligraphy," Sadamatsu pointed out. "So...you'll probably be good...with _hair,_ too."

"You think so? Then would you mind becoming my test subject?" Her smile turned almost devious, and Sadamatsu's heart _almost_ skipped a beat. "I promise I won't give you a mohawk...maybe…"

"Um, alright," he reluctantly agreed. "Ah, should I turn around for you—"

"—I got it!" she sprung up. At full height, she managed to tower over him, but it was the only time where that would be the case. Her _zori_ clicked against the floor with dull thuds, and Sadamatsu counted the steps until she stopped behind him. "Wow, Minatogawa-chan has really pretty hair. It's so spiky, too."

"Not spiky," he countered her with only a _huff_ of indignance. "Just...difficult to deal with. I barely...um...I barely _brush it._ " the admittance was done so bashfully, Himi didn't have to look to know that his face had turned into a fresh shade of red. Of course, she knew him well enough to know that he would never tell something like this to anyone else.

It was a weakness, after all. And she knew his weaknesses like they were her own.

Maybe they were.

"I didn't say I didn't like it, y'know. Just wondering how you got around to styling it. But it turns out that you're a natural at looking good, just like you're a natural at flower arranging!" Her praise wasn't rare, but Sadamatsu felt special, nonetheless. "Let me know if I brush your hair too hard," she said to him kindly. Her hands were so soft that he found himself shivering at her touch. Only after another minute or two of brushing and adjusting, did he feel comfortable.

But perhaps _too_ comfortable. His eyes closed, and he dozed off without knowing it. By the time he came back to reality, he felt that the weight of his hair had changed, and that Himi was humming to herself. "Aaaaand I'm done!" she announced happily. "Take a look!"

She handed him a mirror, and he glanced at his new hairstyle. The bulk of his hair had been cast aside in twin pigtails, kept together by blue-and-pink striped ribbons. His fringe had been altered, as well, with black and green bobby pins keeping it clipped on one side, while the other side was left free and brushed down. He had never seen his hair look so _colorful_ before, just as he had never seen it as well-brushed as it was now.

He looked up from the mirror, and turned around to stare at Himi in the eye. A soft, sincere smile appeared on his face. "I love it," he said. "It's very... _colorful,_ and _bright._ Quite like you, Himi-chan."

She blinked, clearly surprised by his sudden compliment. She wasn't unused to it by any means, but to hear a genuine note of praise from him was satisfying. "Oh, um, thanks so much! I'm glad you like it~ I was gonna do a cool side sweep, and maybe some curls, but then I thought to myself that it'd be _super_ cute if I added some accessories to your hair! So I did!" Himi smiled, and patted him on the back. "The ribbons were an extra touch!"

"Like I said...it's all good," he reassured her again. "But my hair isn't...and will never be...as nice as yours."

"This isn't as nice as you think it is," Himi insisted, pinching a few strands of hair between her fingers to emphasize its make. "It's thick, short, and oily at times. I wish it was longer, or thinner, or naturally smooth. And 'sides, it's _black!_ Your hair color is sooooo much nicer."

"Looks like we're at odds," Sadamatsu simply said. "Himi-chan...I can shower you with compliments, y'know. It's not...a _bad_ thing…"

"I know it's not! I just hate it when you talk all negatively about yourself," she said, pouting so intensely that he wanted to laugh, or at least make _her_ laugh so she would stop making such a sour expression. "Okay, so, let's both agree that our hair is pretty awesome. Yours is especially lovely in these pigtails! Have you considered wearing it like that all the time?"

"I don't know about all the time, but I guess it'd be okay...once in a while…"

"Perfect!"

"Not quite."

"Huh?" she blinked widely, and tilted her head ever-so-slightly out of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"...Can I play with Himi-chan's hair, too?"

"Oh, yeah! I don't see a problem with that."

"You don't need to turn around or anything. It'll be quick."

Himi nodded, and Sadamatsu moved with uncharacteristic suddenness, so as to fulfill his promise about how long the task would take. He reached into the hairstyling kit, and pulled out some colorful hair bands. Then he stepped forward, enclosing the distance between himself and Himi with little difficulty. They were a simple step away from melting into each other, and Himi was eye-to-eye with Sadamatsu's chest, since he towered over her so easily.

She blinked once, twice—sunny eyes alight with introspection as she felt his hands brush through the strands of her hair, gently gathering and tugging them to his heart's desire. The feather-light touch of skin sent shivers up her spine, and from the brief contact she could feel that Sadamatsu's hands were soft and smooth, in contrast to what she would have expected from someone that arranges flowers and gardens all day and night long.

She liked it. She liked the sensation of his fingers, pulling her hair back and wrapping bands around the strands he bunched up together. She liked the airiness of his breath, that came out in slow paces and breezed over the top of her head—making her feel light and giddy. She liked the height of his stature, and the shadow he cast over her when he stood in the sunlit-room at the right spot so as to give her shade. He was like a tree, almost: bright, natural, unmoving but free. Protective, guarding, sweet, and long-lived—she liked that about him, even when he was doing something as simple as putting her hair into twin pigtails.

By the time he finished, she already imagined what she must look like in his eyes. She already saw the vision of herself in him, of a short girl with sweltering summer eyes and pitch black hair. Of a girl dressed in white robes and black hakama, zori sandals and sunset baubles that never seem too out of place. And once she thought about _that_ , she vaguely wondered why the Flower Arranging Club's uniforms and the Calligraphy Club's uniforms looked so similar to one another.

Although she didn't mind the fact that she matched with Sadamatsu at all. She liked that, too. It made them a bit closer, more harmonious like the flowers that he so adored. She was a carnation and he was a peony. Or she was an orchid while he was a forget-me-not. _Or_ she was marigold, and he was a dahlia. Or, or, or…

"Done," Sadamatsu said. Although he promised it would be quick, Himi's mind wandered the path of eternity, and she felt like ages had passed since their last words together. "Now, we match." The mirror from before was brought up, and Himi saw for herself how her hair now adorned itself in similar pigtails to his, bright pink and blue ribbons keeping the shape together. A hair clip here and there held her fringe in place, and not a single strand of hair went astray.

He was already much better at this than she was. She would have been more disappointed with this fact if she wasn't so pleased by his thoughtfulness to begin with. Himi put the mirror down, and smiled up at her friend.

"You're right, we _do_ match! Nice job, Minatogawa-chan!"

"You can just call me 'Sadamatsu', y'know…" he muttered beneath his breath.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"I was saying that...I'm glad you praised me…"

"Oh, well, it's nothing! Thanks for letting me experiment on you first, hehe~" she twirled a bit on her feet, robes flying out after her, heels clicking against the floor in short but rhythmic steps. When she stood still and straight again, her face gleamed up at his with unparalleled satisfaction.

"So, as a thank-you present, I'll treat Minatogawa-chan to lunch today! How's that sound?"

"Sounds good, Himi-chan…" he conceded. "Can we get some takoyaki while we're at it? I'm...craving it…"

"Sure thing! Come on, let's get a move on!" she grabbed his wrist, and began pulling him away with childish abandon. "I want the world to see our cute hairstyles! Come on, come on, come on!"

"Yes, yes, yes," he replied melodically, smiling in tandem with her. "Let's show them our matching power...our fighting will…"

"Eh? I'm not looking for a fight, though!"

"It's an expression."

"Whoops, silly me!"

They spoke, voices contrasting each other like a low valley set against a high mountain. But the differences didn't stop at their voices. He cast more shadows over her, which did nothing to hide the light that so naturally radiated off from her everything. And while his eyes reflected the colors of the soft, sodden earth, hers were more indicative of a starlit sky at twilight, or the golden bubbles that rise above the surface of champagne and filter into the air like sweet surrender.

She was everything, and he was nothing, but it was all okay because they could give into each other and it would be balanced again.

Knowing this, Sadamatsu was pleased with the day's events, and was ever so glad that—even when the rest of the school let him wallow in loneliness—Himi Yasaka was there to drag him along, and integrate him into the busy world that she saw everyday. So each step he took was one done in earnest, kindness, and expectation. Each word he spoke was slow, drawn out, or incredibly short, but their meaning was never lost on either of them. Her fast pace, _vivace,_ would be there to increase his own tempo, and it was like the whole world was sped up, and the brightness of colors and the sweetness of flowers increased tenfold.

Sadamatsu held hands with Himi that day, and it was as if everything was right in the world.


	3. kyoma & shigure

"Good morning, Kuzuryuu-kun," Shigure said. It was late morning, but there weren't any classes today, so most everyone slept in, anyway. "Wow, your hair is messy as ever. Good thing you just woke up, huh?"

"I brushed it twice already," Kyoma deadpanned. He blinked once, twice, then three times—wearing that utterly confused look on his face, the one with widened eyes and furrowed brows, which always made Shigure's heart flutter—before sighing. "Doesn't matter. It's too much work."

"Too much work to _fix your hair?"_ Shigure gawked, matching Kyoma's surprised expression with his own. "Okay, that's it. I'm helping you out with this."

"Don't."

"And why not?"

"I never told you this, but you're weirdly fussy about appearances. Who gives a shit?"

"I do!"

That didn't seem convincing enough as Kyoma simply smirked. "Then what's the problem?"

" _Kuzuryuu-kun!"_

"Shigure."

"Don't parrot me. I'm being serious, here." He pouted, then gave a wave at their general surroundings. "Besides, it's one of our days off and I'm thinking that it's not so bad of an idea to hang out, anyway. You're free, aren't you?"

Kyoma scoffed. "You _want_ me to be free so I can hang out with you."

"Is that a problem? We're friends, aren't we?"

Something within Kyoma wanted to protest and say otherwise. _No, we're not friends, not since you turned your back on me and let me suffer by myself._ Only that was the past, and he already made up with Shigure weeks ago, ever since losing to him in battle. Funny how it took another relentless beating on Kyoma's end to get him to open up to the one person that cared about him from before.

Or, maybe it wasn't so funny, after all. The artist grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, we're friends. No need to make a big deal of it."

"Okay, cool. I've been curious about something, so now I get to see it." Shigure walked closer to Kyoma, shortening their distance to mere coughs away from bleeding into each other. He was taller than him, for sure, with a leaner body that was deceptively hidden underneath his loose-fitting clothes. But Kyoma knew about the strength and fortitude that Shigure had, and it wasn't just _physical_ strength, either.

Shigure had the strongest emotional and mental fortitude when it came to dealing with just about anything. Whenever Kyoma panicked and isolated himself, Shigure was one to take everything in stride, and analyze the situation. It was something he always respected about him.

Getting lost in the thought of his best friend—and the way that they were standing way too close to one another—distracted Kyoma so he couldn't respond right away. But after a moment or so of silence, it occurred to him that Shigure stood rather close to him, and his sleeves were pushed up to the elbows.

Kyoma saw a myriad of hair-ties and ribbons worn around Shigure's left wrist, and a string attached with bobby pins hanging off the right wrist, too.

He made a face. "What are those for?"

"Do you think I was raised in a barn?" Shigure groaned, and took off a black hair tie from his left wrist. He wrung it around his deft fingers several times over, as he looked over Kyoma with a discerning eye—almost as if he was one of the countless manga volumes he was used to poring through. "I take good care of my appearance, y'know."

"Really? I could never tell." He wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious comment just then, but doing so would detract precious seconds of time that could be used for ogling Shigure, instead. So Kyoma resisted the urge and pretended that he hated their closeness just now. "All I ask is that you don't give me pigtails."

"No promises."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Kyoma closed his eyes against Shigure's hands, which were rough, callused, but somehow comforting to the touch. "Yeah, whatever."

Time passed, but it felt like nothing at all. Shigure moved quietly, effortlessly, though Kyoma could still imagine the determined look on his face—the way that his grey eyes would narrow, scrutinize, and make quick work of whatever it set its sights on, the way that his lips would be tucked, bottom lip hidden under an anxious row of teeth, pulling it away and hiding it from sight. Or even the way that his hands, hardened by years of kendo training, were coarse yet delicate—having a way with manga research, with words and books helped to soften yet work you up—brushing by Kyoma's skin and hair with ghosts of a touch.

If left to his own devices, Kyoma would've stayed like that forever. But the moment passed, and he was vaguely aware of himself again, enough to realize what was happening.

Shigure had tied Kyoma's blond hair back into a ponytail. Or, as much of a "ponytail" that he could muster, since his hair was definitely on the shorter side. But he felt distinctive weight disappear from the back of his neck and head, so he knew that his strands were bundled up, and tied back using the same black band that was once on Shigure's left wrist.

"So," Kyoma said, still processing. "My hair was so bad that you felt the need to tie it up?"

"I wanted to see what you'd look like if I did that," Shigure explained, but not in a way that made Kyoma feel any better about the situation. "It's kind of weird, but honestly? It suits you!"

As soon as he said that, Kyoma reached for the back of his head, and began to tug. Shigure yelled and stopped him with both hands—his rough hands clasped around Kyoma's wrists, Kyoma too shocked to repel him a second time.

Shigure whined. "Stop it! Why are you trying to get rid of it? It's cute!"

"You're _weird_ ," Kyoma admonished. "And now it looks like we're matching, so I _definitely_ have to take this out."

"I never even thought about that! Huh, it's even cuter now that you mention it." The grin turned wide on Shigure's face. "You know, like couple outfits? Well, this can be a couple's hair—"

Kyoma's pallette, which was hovering in the air near him this entire time, squelched and splattered with orange paint—almost menacingly. Shigure took a step back, but was too late as a few droplets splashed the side of his boots.

He grimaced. Kyoma's expression was even worse than that. "Stop it now."

"Fine," Shigure conceded, hands raised in the air. "Just don't ruin _all_ of my clothes at once, okay?"

"Uh-huh, sure." Kyoma felt relief as the strands of hair fell back into place, but there was an odd wistfulness in him as he returned the hair tie to Shigure. "I'm leaving now."

"Aw, c'mon, don't be like that!" Shigure sighed, his core stinging with guilt. Just how many times would he have to disappoint Kyoma unknowingly like this? "At least stick around so we can play games, or something!"

Kyoma was halfway out the door when he glanced over his shoulder, and called out to Shigure in a lilting voice, "What are you on about? I'm thirsty. We can hang out some other time, you freak."

"You can call me a freak if you want, but that's the nicest thing you've said to me all day! I appreciate your hidden kindness, Kuzuryuu-kun!"

"Shut up, Shigure."

"I can feel your love from a thousand yards away!"

"So I have to get milk from the goddamned countryside in order to avoid your love. Gotcha."

" _Kuzuryuu-kun!"_

.

.

The free day was ending, and there was a collective atmosphere of _disappointment_ around campus, as everyone dreaded school the following day. Shigure was the same, although it helped that he was in the company of good friends—including his cousin, Eruna—which made it easier to stomach the impending doom that was their reality.

Just as he was about to turn off the lights and lock up the club room, however, the door opened. He expected it to be one of the other club members, because it wasn't uncommon for someone to have forgotten something right before they left. Although, maybe it was a friend dropping by, or better yet, his favorite cousin in the world!

Shigure turned to greet whoever it was that entered, but he never got the chance to. He was interrupted by a fierce hug, one that attacked him straight-on and made him stumble. Thankfully, he was balanced and coordinated enough to remain upright, but the weight against him felt familiar.

As did the smell of pine needles, softly emanating from thick strands of sun-kissed hair.

"Kuzuryuu-kun?" Shigure mumbled. Kyoma's head was resting on his shoulder, and his hands were wrapped tightly around him in an embrace. "Is this an apology, maybe?"

"You wish." When Kyoma spoke, Shigure felt his entire body resonate with his breath, with his _words._ It sent shivers up his spine, and he resisted the urge to shake whilst in his friend's arms.

"So what, then?"

"Just this."

Shigure nearly gasped as Kyoma moved his hands upward, and reached for the tie that was keeping all of his silvery hair back. Ninomiya was known for his signature ponytail, which was medium and messy, but still substantial enough to be as such. It was his look, his style, and it was changed right before his very eyes.

The weight of the silver strands fell unto his shoulders, and Kyoma took a step back, scarlet eyes glimmering with pride. In his paint-stained hands was the hair tie, and he quickly wrapped it around his _own_ wrist, instead, preventing Shigure from accessing it at once.

Shigure stared dumbfounded for a minute, before running a hand through his newly freed strands. The more he brushed through them, the more unruly they got, and he hefted a sigh worthy of his luscious locks.

"That's payback from before," Kyoma huffed. "Although, maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all."

"And why's that?"

"Because you're not supposed to look _better_ with your hair _down_ , idiot."

Shigure blushed, but accepted the compliment in full. Without realizing it, his hand reached out and nudged Kyoma's with slight force and full delicacy.

"If that's the case," he said, "then you should have seen yourself with your hair _up_."


End file.
